“Tests?” I asked apprehensively. I wasn’t a fan of tests, I always got nervous and my mind tended to become far too fuzzy. I looked nervously from the papers on his desk to the mug filled with government issues ballpoint pens.

“Simple stuff, nothing to worry about. Corporal, would you mind stepping into the hallway. I would like a private word with your brother,” Major Thompson said raising from his chair he walked around the desk and opened the door.

There was a moment where Jack hesitated, I could almost feel him wanting to disagree, but the soldier in him took over. With a sharp salute, he turned and stepped out into the hall. Goosebumps rolled up my arms and a shiver ran down my spine as there was an unmistakable click as the door locked. Why would he not want to be disturbed? I wondered as the Major walked back around the desk, his feet seeming to shuffle across the rough carpet.

The Major sat and looked at me, his hands moved below the desk as he pulled open a draw, “There is something I’m very curious about. In fact, since I read the reports on your… abilities, from your brother. Since I watched the footage of you fighting during the battle to liberate Auckland. One thing has been stuck on my mind. Please forgive me if I have to sate my curiosity,” he said, sliding the draw closed with a resounding shove.

“What exactly are you curious about?” I asked as he brought his empty hands up to rest on the desk.

“The carryover,” he stated as if I would know what he was referring to.

“I’m sorry? Carryover?” I asked.

“Let me explain. From the way Jackson describes it, you are one of the most dangerous Dreamers, capable of killed droves of enemies. But what is interesting is that, as far as we know, you have never had any martial arts training in real life, you've never even been in a fight,” the major said, leaning back in his chair. Another shiver ran across my body as a cool breeze brushed across my skin.

“What has me so curious, is how much of what you have learned has carried over from The Dream to real life. I’m curious how you would handle a real fight,” as he spoke his eyes flicked to something behind me and I felt the blood drain from my face as my heart rate soared.

Why had he locked the door? What was he fiddling with under the desk? Where had that breeze come from when the window was closed? Intuition is not something you can ever be taught, but it is certainly something you pick up after being stabbed in the back too many times. Literally.

I heard the shuffle of the carpet, the rustle of clothing and a flash of an arm in my peripheral vision as my hand snapped out. Snatching a pen from the mug, and an arm snaked around my neck, yanking me back into my chair and tightening to a suffocating degree. My body took over, with the pen in my left hand I stabbed upwards at the arm that created tension on the chokehold, plunging it into the attacker's forearm three times in quick succession. There was a gasp of pain and hold on my neck loosened.

Then I brought my legs up and kicked out. Major Thompson's fascinated expression morphed into one of alarm as his deck was kicked into his chest and I propelled myself back over the chair. The attacker behind me slammed bodily into the wall, his breath escaping him and the chokehold slipping. I reached back, grabbing a loose wrist and twisting it wide before spinning on the spot. I blocked a hasty elbow strike and followed up with two of my own. Straight into the exposed attacker’s temple without even looking. Once, twice, then I brought the elbow down onto his collar bone and a knee into his stomach in rapid succession. He crumbled.

I had been put on kilos of muscle over the last months, doing everything I could to help myself in The Dream, but I still felt slow, felt weak. It didn’t matter though, my attacker was slower and weaker than I was used to. Even Keg fought better than this.

Keg! I stepped back, my fist still raised for another strike as I blinked down at the man who had attacked me. It was Keg, and he was slumped over, his weight supported by the wall as he looked up at me. The worry in his eyes disappeared and the idiot even smiled, staggering slightly as he stood, a hand clutched around his bleeding forearm.

“Keg! What the fuck!” I stammered; my heart rate was still pounding like the deep bass of a drum in my ears. Trapping my violent emotions.

Keg blinked up at me in surprise, “sorry man... I volunteered. Thought you would hurt me less than someone you didn’t know,” Keg hissed through a groan of pain.

“Oh, excellent! That certainly answers a few questions! Private, please let Corporal Sanders back in,” Major Thompson said, his voice booming with laughter as Jack began knocking aggressively on the door.

The voice slipped past the pounding in my ears and I spun around to face the major across the desk. The muscles in my jaw strained under tension and my nails dug into my palms. “What the FUCK! YOU WANT TO DIE OLD MAN!” I roared.

Up until this point I had been able to maintain a separation between who I really was and who I had become in The Dream, and the walls that separated those people had just been shattered because he had been curious. Because he thought he could toy with me?! An overwhelming violent desire to jump the desk and stab him with his own scissors crashed through. This was his fault! He deserved it! He wouldn’t be able to stop me! My body shook and the pounding in my ears continued as I scowled across the desk.

“Erick, Breathe,” Jack's voice came from behind me, quiet yet tense, “Just breathe remember, In for three and hold,” he said.

I sucked in a breath, letting it hiss through my teeth. Then another, feeling my heart rate begin to slow, the deafening pounding in my ears began to lessen.

“That’s it, just breathe. He isn’t our enemy,” Jack's hand came to rest on my shoulder, shaking with his voice. I let another breath escape. The pounding in my ears disappeared but I continued to glare at Major Thompson.

“Fuck you,” I spat, turning to leave the room, past a now open door that was blended with the sidewall. I gave Keg an apologetic look as I brushed past him and out into the hallway, voices from the room following me.

“Sir, What the fuck?” Jack sighed.

“Sorry Corporal. I didn’t think he would react so… aggressively. Best to take him home, give him the number for Doctor Victor. I think he needs it.”

I left the conversation behind, storming from the offices and out across the street, Jack's feet slapping against the concrete as he ran to catch me up.

“Erick. I’m sorry, I didn’t know what he was planning. I thought he only wanted to talk.” Jack said to my back as I lead the way to the car.

My hands began to shake as I gripped the car's door handle. Then tremors shook my body and a lump began forming in my throat as I slid into the passenger’s seat. “Are you okay?” Jack asked, his voice was quiet, and I knew he would be blaming himself.

“I’m fine, just take me home,” I said, my voice cracking.

“You fight all the time. That’s just the same as what you’re used to,” Jack said, starting the car and pulling out of the car park.

“It's not the same!” I blurted out, “that’s not meant to be me, that’s not meant to be who I really am.” I violently shuddered. “I have to be just to survive, just to cope, but only in The Dream. Not now, not here. It’s not meant to happen here,” I muttered, my shoulder slumping.

“I wanted to kill him,” I whispered, defeated. A single tear escaped me and splashed down on my hand as it rested in my lap. “I don’t want to be that person, not here.”

Jack was silent as we passed through security and out the gates. We were both quiet as we bumped up the motorway, then along the streets until we pulled up outside my flat.

“Hold on a second,” Jack said, pulling a note pad and a pen from his glove box before I could get the car door open. He scribbled something then ripped the page free. “This is the number for doctor Victor. She sees all our guys when they come back from deployment, extra time with the ones who have seen combat. She has been a little busy lately but I’m sure she can find time to see you. I’ll cover the cost,” he said, handing me the piece of paper. I folded it and stuffed it into my pocket.

“You need to talk to someone. Trust me, it doesn’t just go away, you can't just box that part of you off. It's like an animal too big for a cage. If you won't talk to me, if you won’t call the doc, please talk to someone.” Jack stared out the windscreen, watching a tree branch as it shimmered in the wind.

“I’ll think about it,” I muttered, pushing the door open and stepping from the car. I could hear Jack's car grumble as he drove off and I pushed through my front door.

Less than two hours later there was a ping and vibration from my phone as I grunted my way up to the top of a local hill, my weighted pack threatening to put me off balance. I was in the process of attempting to drown out my own thoughts. I had always found that when I was exercising, between the strained breathing, sore muscles, and exhaustion, I found my mind was incapable of formulating any thoughts, let alone the chaotic and combative thoughts I was currently trying to tame.

Without reaching into my pocket to check the caller I tapped my earpiece and connected the call.

“Hello,” I answered in response to the connecting ding.

“Erick, is that you? You sound the same,” came the response.

I stopped on the track, blinking at nothing in particular. Jack, really clever. I thought.

“Mia?” I asked. Of course, it was Mia, the tone, the cadence of her voice, and the way she said my name with that Asian and American mixed accent. Who else could it be? I blinked again in surprise. Despite spending so much time together, intimately, I had never seen or even spoken to Mia in real life. “This is a surprise. Don’t tell me, Jack messaged you?” I asked, dropping my pack onto the grass beside the track and sitting down on top of it.

“Hi. Maybe he did, but I was starting to think it was long overdue that I got your number. I heard what happened. Are you doing okay?” she asked. Why was everyone wanting to know if I was okay?

“I’m fine. I’m more worried about Keg. Did Jack tell you about that too?”

“Yeah, he did, I’m going to kill Keg the second I see him. That idiot. Don’t feel bad, what did he expect would happen!?”

“Even so… It’s nice to hear your voice. Your real voice,” I said, honestly. It really was, it made her more real in my mind.

“Yours too… do you want to tell me what happened?”

“Didn’t Jack already tell you?” I asked,

“What he could, but I would like to hear it from you,” she said in a way that really did make me want to tell her. Something that Mia knew how to do so well.

I slid off my pack and onto the grass, laying back. Then I told her everything from the moment we had entered Major Thompson's office until Jack dropped me outside my house. She silently listened, and I could almost feel her nodding through the phone.

“He’s right you know.” She said when I was finished.

“What's that?”

“Jack. He’s right. You really can’t try to separate them. It’s not something that can be caged. You need to accept what you’ve done, what you can do. You’re not the same person you were when The Dream started and that’s not a bad thing.”

“I just don’t want to feel so angry. I don’t want to be a danger to anyone,” I said.

“You were attacked, being angry is perfectly valid. You couldn’t know that it wasn’t life or death, you reacted exactly how any of us would. Do you feel like you’re a danger now?” she asked.

“Not right now,”

“Right, because you’re not.” She said, very matter-of-factly. “You’re not unstable, you don’t have random urges to hurt people. They pushed you, and they weren’t ready for the consequences. That’s their fault.”

I smiled up at the clouds. It was hard to argue with Mia sometimes, she was so sure of herself.

“Thanks. How’s the potential transfer going?” I asked, feeling significantly better.

“Pretty great! Honestly. I was accepted this morning and they have accelerated the time table. The guy I’m replacing is having a kid soon and he really wants to get home to his wife so It looks like I’ll be there in a couple of days,” Mia said and her excitement was palpable. “I was wondering if I could ask a favour,” she added.

“Ask away,”

“I’ll arrive at around zero six hundred and don’t have to be on station until zero seven hundred the next day. I was hoping you could show me Auckland?” she said, almost apprehensively.

“Show you around?”

“Yeah. You know, pick me up with your car and show me around,” she said.

“I would love to,” I said, throwing my earlier apprehension aside. I couldn’t just go forever not meeting Mia in person. “But there is only one thing,”

“What’s that? Oh god, you don’t have a girlfriend do you, or a wife? Or both?!” she laughed.

“No, nothing like that. I don’t have a car. How do you feel about motorbikes?” I asked.

“You have a bike? A man after my own heart,”

I laughed, drawing looks from a pair of passers-by.